EEEP
by Madtrek
Summary: The Enterprise really is just a ship of college students and young adults. Halloween is therefore inevitable… As are the costumes. S/U barely mentioned


**EEEP. **

**Author: startrekgirl.m**

**Rating: K+ for a bit of violence and weaponry**

**Word Count: 969 (this included, it's 1031 (10/31) words, hehe)**

**Summary: The Enterprise really is just a ship of college students and young adults. Halloween is therefore inevitable…**

**A/N: Halloween is a week away! I thought I should post something, in honor of this tremendous holiday.**

Jim had scrambled to the bridge, uncharacteristically 10 minutes early to his shift. He had a reason for this. The reason being that today, on Earth, it was Halloween. He had declared a Ship-wide 'Wear-Your-Costume-to-Work Day' and forced everyone to participate under the argument that it was a 'morale improvement'. Which, in fact, it was. He dismissed the Gamma shift, spinning his chair around to face the turbolift, and stood on the armrests. He carefully arranged his toga, and waited.

Chekov was the first to come in. Jim's eyes widened on sight. The little 17-year-old was actually scaring him. The normally sunshiny kid was dressed in the most Goth apparel Jim had seen. He had a shredded black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, tall black boots, multiple temporary tattoos, leather bracelets with studs, make-up, straight black hair, and a scowl. Pavel leveled a glare at him, before breaking out in a grin. "Do you like it, Keptin?" Chekov spun to Jim could get the full effect.

"Damn, kid, that's good. I-" Jim cut off, looking like he had just remembered something important. "I am the great Apollo! Bow to my beauty!"

Chekov scowled.

The two bent of double, laughing. That is, until, a ninja sprang up from behind the helm, twin swords flashing. Both blondes shrieked. Sulu soon joined them in their laughter, pulling his mask off enough to show his face.

They froze when the speaker system gave out a strange noise, a noise just about any Terran would recognize. It was the 'oooo-eeeeeee' sound out of the old westerns that came on when the gun-slinger appeared through the dust. The turbolift opened, expunging a cowboy, fully armed, thumbs in belt-loops, 10-gallon-hat tipped over his eyes. The cowboy sauntered out and onto the bridge, dark eyes regarding them over a bandana and from the shadows of the hat. The man out of the 1800s reached up and pulled the bandana down, revealing a familiar face. "Bones! Nice costume. How'd you get the speakers to do that?"

" I have my ways. And what are you supposed to be?"

"I am Apollo! Bow to my beauty!"

"Think again, Jim."

"And I em a goth!" Taking note of what he had just said, the navigator slouched and wiped his smile."

Jim sat back in his chair, and waited for the rest of the crew to trickle in. Sulu and Chekov took their normal seats, and McCoy leaned on Jim's chair. The next to enter was a Vulcan, though not the one you might expect. Uhura swept in, ears pointed and eyebrows waxed. Her hair was wrapped in an elaborate style on top of her head, and she wore long, flowing, burgundy robes. Jim nodded. "Very impressive, Lieutenant."

Uhura quirked an eyebrow, imitating her boyfriend. "Indeed, Captain." She spun on a heel, and glided to her station, where she sat, spun her chair, and watched the turbolift.

Quickly enough, they were joined by a none other than a Viking. Scotty ran onto the brdge, brandishing a spiked club, wearing leather and a horned helmet. All of them, 'Vulcan' included, broke down in laughter. Said 'Vulcan' regained her composure and tilted her head at Scotty. "Mr. Scott, you are aware of the fact the Viking never wore horns upon their heads, correct?"

"Aye, lass, but where's the fun in tha? No'un would know what I was!"

Uhura raised an eyebrow.

Scotty took his seat and Sulu and Chekov sat with Bones on the railing, waiting for the fateful moment when the real Vulcan would enter. Their captain gave a slightly strangled noise, and a deep, menacing voice rumbled, "I suggest that you improve your observation skills should you wish to continue existence, Mr. Kirk."

The crew whipped around to see a tall, dark figure they all recognized with a knife held to their captain's throat. Chekov and Scotty pulled out phasers while Sulu raised his swords. As they knew it, this was the most dangerous creature they had come to meet in the depths of space.

Their enemy was dressed in black pants, a dark navy shirt with a silver stripe down the middle, a silver sash, black knee high boots, knives, phasers, and most other varieties of modern (and not so modern by the looks of the throwing stars) weaponry on his belt, sleeves and sticking out of his boots, a ridiculous amount of medals pinned over the right breast with a dagger-pierced earth depicted on the other side. But, most distinguishably, he had a face marred by a scar splitting it in two, stretching from above his left eyebrow diagonally across his face to the bottom of his right ear, barely missing his eye, a black goatee, and agonizer, and two delicate silver chains running from piercings at the top of a set of pointed ears running back into a warrior's braid. The officers all experience the flashback to that fateful transporter accident that switched their Commander and this Vulcan. This was the mercenary of a first officer that ran the Enterprise in his own universe from behind the scenes, hiding behind the brute of a captain that wanted nothing but war. They had managed to reason with him, but only after he had incapacitated 397 of the 428 crewmen without any of the 31 others noticing until he announced his complete take over of the ship.

Then they noticed the eyes. His eyes weren't quite black, but a deep, chocolate brown. And those eyes were laughing at them.

"Kommander?" Chekov warily eyed the Vulcan still holding a knife to the captain's throat.

Spock pulled back the knife and stepped back and tiled his head sassily. "Was my depiction accurate enough, Captain?"

The captain was still gulping air, his eyes wide with terror. "Yes, Mr. Spock." – pant – "Very."

**A/NII: Shall I leave it at that? **


End file.
